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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483875">Chicken Noodle Soup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwo0ds/pseuds/redwo0ds'>redwo0ds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Captain Holt is a dad, Episode: s03e12 9 Days, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene, One Shot, Quarantine, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like really it's all fluff, mumps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwo0ds/pseuds/redwo0ds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Holt and Jake have some soup.</p><p>Or, a missing moment while the two are in quarantine with the mumps during the episode “Nine Days”.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ray Holt &amp; Jake Peralta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chicken Noodle Soup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Holt breathes deeply.  The afternoon sun is cascading through the window, and Holt leans back in his leather chair, reading over some files.  A comfortable silence sits between him and Jake, who is sitting on the couch, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Both of them had recently contracted the mumps, and now, they were quarantined together, working a case.  Despite the mumps, Holt was having something akin to fun — he loved work, and Peralta’s presence had actually been curing his loneliness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Man, I’m starting to feel kind of light headed,”  Jake mentions, and he moves to stand.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt can’t help but notice the way his subordinate sways when he stands up suddenly — he watches as the younger man grasps the arm of the couch to steady himself, only to collapse onto the ground.  a series of groans that make Holt wince follow.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt rises from his desk and walks over to help him.  “You okay?” he asks, holding his arm out.  Jake grabs it, and with Holt’s help, he stands, still keeping a grip on the captain’s arm, afraid that if he lets go he might fall again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thanks, yeah.  These mumps are just jerks,” he laughs it off and begins to walk off before he feels his knees weaken beneath him again.  This time, Holt is there to catch him.  “Maybe you should sit down.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That sounds nice,”  he says softly, more than a hint of exhaustion in his voice.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt helps him lower onto the couch.  “Thanks, dad,”  Jake murmurs in his sick delirium, as Holt drapes a blanket over him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt hums to himself and frowns at the look of the young detective.  While they had both been taking plenty of cold medication, Jake is clearly less functional than himself in the moment.  While he’s tempted to get back to work, a paternal warmth fills his chest and he concludes that he can take some time to make sure that Jake is comfortable.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Are you hungry?”  Holt asks, and Jake sits up straighter.  He seems to ponder this question for a minute, his hair askew and expression scrunched up in a way that Holt thinks makes him look years younger. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah.”  Jake responds after a few seconds.  “Yeah, food sounds good.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Anything particular?” Holt asks, voice purposefully softer than usual.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I dunno.  Soup?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That is ... amenable.  I believe we have some canned chicken noodle in the cupboard.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake smiles at the prospect of a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup.  “Sounds perfect.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt busies himself with warming up two cans of soup  — one for Jake, and one for himself.  While the soup begins to heat up, he prepares a glass of ice water and returns to the study. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Drink this,” he hands the glass of water to the younger man.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake grasps the cup with both hands, and drinks half of it in a matter of seconds.  “Thanks.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt gives Jake’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before returning to the kitchen.  As the soup heats up, Holt can’t help but think if this is what he’s been missing in his life.  He’d never even entertained the thought of having kids — he knew the dream would only end in heartbreak.  Adoption was already difficult as is, but as a gay man?  It would have been twice as hard.  Being a father was something he thought he would never experience.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then, Jake bombarded his way into Holt’s life.  After only a few months, he had developed this wonderful, weird, and occasionally chaotic paternal relationship with this young man — a relationship he had never imagined he would ever have with another person.  And now, here he was, years after their first meeting, quarantined and sick with his pseudo son, making soup and doing what he can to help him feel even remotely better.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When the soup is done, he carefully carries two bowls into the study.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, that smells amazing,”  Jake takes one of the white, porcelain bowls from the man.  “Thanks.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Of course,”  Holt grumbles warmly, as he settles down next to the man.  “How are you feeling?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Really good, actually,”  Jake answers.  “I mean, aside from the world spinning and everything feeling cold.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt frowns.  “That does not sound ‘really good’, Peralta.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake swallows a large spoonful of chicken noodle soup.  “Well, I have soup.  And you’re here,”  He says the second part as casually as possible.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You should rest after this.  I’ll continue to work the case,”  Holt says, and he’s surprised when Jake puts up zero resistance to the concept of a nap.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Okay, but only for like, an hour.  I feel like we’re really close to a big lead.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sounds good,”  Holt concludes.  If there’s anything they both share, it’s their love for work, and he doesn’t want to push it.  He knows the man won’t agree to anything more than an hour.  “Please, let me know if you need help with anything,”  and as he says it, he almost nervous about upholding that statement — he’s starting to feel pretty sick himself and isn’t sure if he’ll be able to take care of the both of them much longer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thanks, captain,”  Jake says, and his mouth opens before he shuts it again, almost like he’s debating whether he wants to say something.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They eat their soup in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Jake speaks up.  “Thanks for, uh, taking care of me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s really nothing, truly, the least I can do.  You’re still a guest here, after all”  Holt responds.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake frowns. “It’s certainly more than my parents did.  I mean, my mom did when she could, but after I turned nine or ten, I used to have to take care of myself when I was sick.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt is silent for a few moments.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake continues.  “My nana was too old and we didn’t want to get her sick, and my mom had to work, and my dad... well, you know about my dad.  Anyways, my point is that I really appreciate you taking care of me...  Even if it’s out of obligation.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Of course.  And, for the record, it’s not just out of obligation — I was worried, when you fell.  Hopefully in an hour, you’ll feel better,”  Holt gives Jake a small smile.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jake’s goofy personality is back as quick as it left, and Jake smiles widely.  “Oh my god, you’re emoting — you were worried about me!  Are you feeling alright, sir?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Holt rolls his eyes, but he still smiles.  “Don’t push it,” He says as he grabs the empty bowl from Peralta’s hands.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When he returns to the study five minutes later after washing the dishes, he finds Jake curled up on the couch, looking dead to the world.  Holt quietly walks over to the couch, and gently adjusts the blanket that’s partially fallen onto the ground.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>After the man is satisfied that the blanket is covering Jake, he drags a hand through the man’s curly brown hair, in what he hopes is comforting.  Jake’s face contorts into a smile, and he shifts further into the couch.  He mutters a string of words in his sleep, and Holt can’t make out much, but he does hear the word ‘dad’ — something that never fails to warm his heart.  And, for a moment, however brief, he truly feels like a father.</p>
</div><div class="yj6qo">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="adL">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Anyways, it's been a while since i've actually posted something but I was rewatching 9 days because i'm currently quarantined and felt it would be appropriate, and I was inspired to write a little missing moment.  I love these two and I hope this makes your day even a little better - it feels like joy is hard to come by currently.  Don't let the rona get you down</p></blockquote></div></div>
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